The antidepressant that lives and loves

By Christine Stapleton

Twenty-one polo ponies died here last Sunday.

I do not know much about polo. But I do understand this:

“These horses give you their all,” said one of the world’s top polo player. “They are like the best dog you ever had.”

The best dog I ever had died in my arms. Her death was the last in a 22-month wave of death that finally pulled me under. My father died first. Sixteen months later, my mother. Eight month after that - my eternally faithful and infinitely loving dog Bella died.

Of the three I cried the hardest when my beautiful Weimeraner Bella died.

My daughter, Kealy, and Bella

Maybe it was accumulated grief. But I wept like I had never wept before. I dug a hole in the backyard and buried her. My daughter and I made a headstone from a children’s craft kit designed for imprinting little hands in cement.

I replaced Bella several months later with another Weimeraner named Bella - the fourth dog in my life to carry that name. Bella IV is my depression dog. She stayed beside me through my descent to hell and refused to abandon me. She did not judge my illness and she had utter faith I would get better.

I consider her as vital to my recovery as my medications and therapy. When I did not want to get out of bed she reminded me - with those piercing yellow eyes - that she had a bladder and if I did not get my butt out of bed there would be trouble. When I could not sleep she, too, would awaken and accompany me on my sad wanderings through our silent neighborhood.

When I had no love to give, she snuggled beside me and asked for nothing. She watched me. She knew something was wrong. She never left me alone. She waited. Even though I know nothing about polo, I do understand that devastating loss. I understand why grief counselors were brought in for the players, the trainers and the workers who cleaned these ponies’ stables.

I know the priceless value of an animal that lives for nothing more than to please and love you, even when you are exhausted and can give nothing back. I know how important it is to have something in my life that gently reminds me that life goes on and that I am needed. I know that I love and need my dog and I will say a prayer today for those grieving the loss of their ponies.

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